While the Music Lasts
by Midnight Rain1
Summary: People who make music together cannot be enemies... A strange alternative to Christine's first visit to the house on the lake. Madness...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are in no way mine and I don't claim to own them either, so there.

A/N: Hello everyone! This is a really random little thing I wrote one day when I just felt like it. It's for the most part…completely pointless. But I hope you will read and tell me what you think anyway! Thank you very much :)

People who make music together cannot be enemies, at least while the music lasts.

Christine opened her eyes slowly and yawned. Sitting up, she stretched a little and rubbed her eyes to awaken herself fully. Suddenly she froze as a realization hit her. She did not know where she was…

The room was unfamiliar to her. The large, dark wood canopy bed she sat on, the dresser and vanity to match, the small fireplace set in the wall, the velvet chair before it… Her breathing became more rapid and she stood up, rather unsteady, the carpeting soft beneath her feet. The room was surely the most beautiful bedroom she had ever seen and it was filled with the scent of roses, coming from a vase of them on the vanity. She went over to them, her face crossed with fear and curiosity. Christine brought her hand up to gently touch one of the delicate flowers. She could feel the silk of the petals…they were real. Her hand moved to the silver comb that lay on the vanity as well, to the bottle of perfume beside that, to the small hand mirror laying face down… They were all real. The room was real. She moved to the wardrobe and flung open the doors. She gasped as her eyes filled with the sight of at least ten different gowns, more beautiful than she had ever owned, in every color she could want. 

Christine abruptly closed the doors again and leaned her back against the wardrobe, using the large piece of furniture to support herself. She closed her eyes and muttered, "This is a dream…"

But when she opened her eyes again, the room remained. How had she gotten here? She struggled to remember what had happened the night before. The performance… She had triumphed! Her angel had come to her... Christine's hand flew to her mouth. She remembered now. He had called to her and she had followed. They had sung together, so joyously she found it hard to believe she had forgotten it. That music she had witnessed and taken part in last night… No one had ever heard such beauty, such…passion. The feeling she had had began to come back to her. She clutched her chest and attempted to breath normally.

Her angel… He was here! He had brought her to this place. Christine looked around the room and spotted the door. She walked towards it slowly, feeling as if her legs would give way at any moment. She would see her angel face to face… He was out there, right through that door. Turning the knob she pushed open the door a crack. She let out a sigh when it did not make any noise. For some reason she felt that she must be silent. She did not want to disturb her angel in any way. 

She looked around the door before opening it all the way. Outside she found a surprisingly normal looking sitting room. There was no sign of anyone. Hesitantly, she stepped out of the room and carefully closed the door behind her. She crept further into the room grateful for the Persian rug that muffled the sound of her footsteps. She felt as if she were intruding, but there seemed to be no one about… She looked around and saw that there were several doors in the room.

Christine crossed the room, wishing her skirt didn't make so much noise, and opened the door opposite the bedroom she had woken up in. Looking inside she saw a grand piano dominating the room. On the other side there were large bookshelves filled with what seemed to be an infinite amount of books. The sight baffled her. She couldn't imagine anyone loving books so much. But as she looked around from the doorway, she saw that this room too looked entirely normal. How could an angel live so normally?

She backed away and closed the door. She still felt rather like she was poking around where she shouldn't be. But the house did seem empty, so she figured there was no harm in looking around if she was not going to be caught.

Moving in front of the large, stone fireplace, she reached another door. When Christine placed her hand on the doorknob a shiver went through her, as if something was telling her to stay out. But her curiosity got the better of her and the door swung open at her touch. 

For several moments she remained completely still, her breathing seemed to have stopped. Her mouth hung open slightly as she gazed incomprehensibly inside the room. She was staring at what was without a doubt…a coffin. Her legs moved forward toward it. She couldn't resist getting a closer look. It was horrifying to see this object of death in an angel's home, but she couldn't stop herself. It looked to her as if it was raised up on a wooden…pedestal almost. And there were deep red curtains canopying it. It was so frightening. Surely there must be a mistake. Why would there be a coffin? Here in this house? At last she shook herself and turned quickly to hurry out of the room. But as she turned she saw an enormous pipe organ that took up an entire wall. She had been so entranced by the horror of the coffin she hadn't even glanced at it. But last night…there had been an organ. She had been in this room with the coffin and not even realized it! Tears she could not explain came to her eyes and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to get out of the room. She practically ran the distance to the door and slammed it shut behind her, forgetting to be quiet. She closed her eyes and slumped against it, grateful to be back in the friendlier atmosphere of the sitting room.

"Christine…"

Christine smiled in relief. The voice of her angel… Not looking up at him, she ran to him and sunk against him with her hands on his chest. She did not notice him stiffen, did not notice his sudden heavy breathing or his rapid heartbeat. She did not look up and see the look of shock and longing in his eyes.

"Angel!" she cried. "Oh that room there! It was terrible! I…" she stopped though, for then she had looked up expecting to see her angel's handsome face that she had been sure she had seen the night before. But instead all she saw was a black silk mask.

She gasped and backed away from him, her mouth open in horror. There was a man before her, just a man. A man in a mask… 

"Who are you?" she asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice and failing. 

"It is all right, Christine," the man said softly, taking a step toward her.

Christine backed away, putting her hand up as if to stop him. "Please," she whimpered. "Why have you brought me here?" 

"Do not be afraid," he said. "Do you not know your angel?" 

She swallowed hard. It was her angel's voice. But this…he was a man! He had taken her away.

"Angel?" she whispered.

The man nodded once.

Christine shook her head. "How…how can this be?" 

"Do not be afraid," he repeated. "No harm will come to you."

She felt her shoulders relax slightly at his words. There was something in his voice…that beautiful, intoxicating voice…that made her believe him.

She bit her lip and said slowly, "You…you are not an angel."

The man before her sighed almost inaudibly. "No, Christine."

Christine glared at him suddenly. "You are a man! You kidnapped me!"

He flinched as if the words had caused him pain. But then he met her gaze, his eyes flashing. "No," he said vehemently. "You came with me. I offered my hand…" he said, holding it out to her. "And you took it."

Christine, drawn by the sound of his voice, stepped forward and took his hand. But a moment later she came to and wrenched her hand away. "Why did you bring me here?" she demanded.

"Oh Christine…" he said softly. His hand came up and traced the air beside her cheek. Her eyes widened, he was so close to touching her…

But his hand dropped without making contact. Christine stood frozen where she stood. The man turned away from her.

"You wanted an angel, Christine. You called for one, and I answered." He turned back to her. "How could I have resisted your voice, Christine? I knew you could be great. I knew that if someone could just mold your voice, train it properly… It would be the most glorious sound on this earth. You proved that I had been right last night. You were a triumph, Christine."

His words seemed to wash over her without causing any real effect. Why had he taken her to his home? Where was his home? Why did he choose her?

"Please…" she said. "Who are you…really?" 

"My name is Erik," he answered simply.

Christine nodded, accepting this fact. 

"You are frightened still," Erik said.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked again, not responding to his statement.

He took a step closer to her and she felt a sudden surge of fear and joy at the same time. "I have watched you for so long, Christine. I have wanted you for so long…" 

His voice trailed off and the only sound left was Christine's rapid breathing. She was growing more and more frightened at every moment. Surely this man was mad… 

Desperate to say something, anything to find a normal response from him she asked, "Where are we?" 

Erik gestured around the room. "This is my home. We are five cellars below the opera."

Christine's hand flew to her mouth. How was that possible? Why would someone live underground?

"I don't understand," she managed to say.

"It is quite simple really," Erik explained. "I cannot live among men, they have shunned me and I them. I have no desire to be part of their race again." Suddenly his tone changed. His voice became lower, more hypnotic. "But you Christine, you are different from them. You will see me as what I really am. You will love me."

Christine gaped at the man before her. She couldn't understand what he was saying to her. Love? 

"You love me…" she breathed.

Erik then held out his hand to her and again she could not resist taking it. Locking his eyes with hers he led her back into the room with the coffin. But Christine, like the night before, did not notice it. He dropped her hand when they reached the organ. He sat down and began to play. Christine closed her eyes and let the haunting sound wash over her, move through her. 

"Sing," he commanded.

And with that word Christine was his. She sang for him again as she had last night. She became aware of him singing with her. The sound they created seemed as though it must come from heaven itself. Surely such a sound could not be created by mortal beings. Christine felt nothing except the feeling that she was flying, spinning out in space surrounded by sound and notes. Nothing existed tangibly, she felt nothing…

Like all things do, the music came to an end. Christine fell to the ground, weeping silently into her hands. Her emotions had lifted her so high and when the last note died she had been dropped back to reality. She knelt crying for several moments until she heard Erik stand. 

He offered his hand and helped her to her feet. "Come, my dear. You must rest."

The music, the sound, the beauty rung in Christine's ears as she made her way back to her room. Erik led her there, showing her a small button that had to be pushed for the door to open from the outside. Before going inside, she turned and looked up into Erik's eyes. She felt herself overcome by an incredible longing for him, a passion she had never felt before. She loved him…

Unconsciously she moved into the room and collapsed onto the bed, dimly aware of Erik shutting the door behind her. She felt as though she would never rise again. It took a very short amount of time for her to fall fast asleep. 

Christine awoke much later, her face streaked with dried tears. She rose from the bed stiffly and tried to smooth her wrinkled dress. She gave up and remembered the wardrobe in the room filled with gowns. She opened the doors to it and wondered how she could ever choose just one. At last she made a decision and pulled it from the wardrobe. The color was a soft pink; similar to the style of her own gown, but much more detailed and made of finer material. She decided that she had never seen so beautiful a dress.

She emerged from the room and closed the door behind her. Erik seemed to appear at her side immediately. She jumped at the sight of him. For some reason a surge of anger went through her. He had some strange power over her and she hated him for it.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her.

She narrowed her eyes at such a normal question and nodded slowly. 

"Come," he said and led her through to an elegant dining room. 

 What followed was a dinner spent in silence. As soon as he set her dinner down in front of her she found herself starving and ate every bite. Erik did not eat and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze throughout the whole ordeal.

After she had finished, he stood and again repeated the command, "Come." She was beginning to hate the way he said it and the fact that she could not refuse him even if she had wanted to.

He led her to the library and told her that she could pick any book she liked. Christine went to the shelves and spent a good while going through all of the titles, sometimes pulling out the books and examining them. The collection really was wonderful. At last she found a novel that looked enjoyable enough. She sat down with it in a large armchair in front of the fire. Erik sat down in the other chair, positioned to face her slightly. He had a book of his own. Christine watched him for a long time. Her book lay open in her lap. If he looked up at her she planned to immediately look down as if she were caught up in the novel she had chosen. She didn't want to be caught staring at him. But Erik did not seem to notice or at least pretended not to notice. Christine studied his appearance carefully. He was obviously a man of great wealth. His suit was very formal and fine, tailored exactly to fit his curiously lean form. Even sitting down, Christine could tell how tall he was. She wondered why his height had not yet intimidated her…but perhaps he had simply chosen not to use that advantage against her. She tried not to stare at the mask, she truly did…but it was useless. She stared openly at it then. Why would this man wear a mask? What was he trying to hide? His voice was so beautiful, so rich, so…perfect… Surely he was just as beautiful as his voice. But why wear a mask then? Why live so far underground? Fear suddenly gripped Christine and she looked down at her book quickly. Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring the words on the pages before her. She was frightened and alone with this man. He could kill her and no one would ever know…

Christine stared down at the book in her lap, wild, terrifying thoughts running through her mind, even though she tried her best to banish them. At last Erik shut his book and said to her, "I think it is time you went to bed, my dear. It is getting very late."

Christine nodded and obeyed him without a word. She lay in bed that night, in the nightgown she had found folded neatly in the dresser. She stared up at the ceiling, tears coursing down her cheeks. She hated him…

The next day passed in the same manner. Erik would be the perfect gentleman; he would read with her, talk with her, play the violin for her. It was very peaceful and soothing. It was all so simple, the time she spent with him. He treated her with every kindness. But, she could feel a darkness in him at times when he came near her. It frightened her. 

But then they would sing together. The glorious sound of their voices entwining together threw all sense and thought from Christine's head. And oh how she loved him. She wanted him, she needed him… How could she have possibly lived before without this experience?

But the music always came to an end. And again she found herself trapped with him. A man who had stolen her away, claiming he loved her and that she would love him as well…

Christine was emotionally exhausted always. She hated him for doing this to her. She could not bear it. But when the music played, she loved him so fiercely she thought she would burst.

One day, after they had sung and the last note had faded, she collapsed onto her bed as she always did. But she did not fall asleep. She couldn't. She couldn't stand it for another day. She wept in that room. She realized that she was trapped. No one would find her so far away from the world.

Staring up at the ceiling, she said in an empty whisper, "I shall never escape this place."

A/N: All right, yes, that was just strange and random… But there it is! I'm shocked that I actually had the nerve to post this…lol. Thank you so much for reading! Please Review :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Gaston Leroux. Yay.

A/N: All right...I'm adding more to this story. Originally where this story is now going to go was supposed to be a different phic entirely, but since there was such a similarity between the two I decided to merge them into one story. There will be one more chapter after this one if all goes according to plan...

Also, because this story has now been merged with another one I was writing I need to tell you that it is partially based on the novel _The Collector_ by John Fowles.

To everyone who reviewed this story: Thank you so very much! Your reviews were absolutely lovely and a joy to read. I'm very happy to hear that you all enjoyed it! Let me know if you continue to enjoy it...and let me know if you don't too. Thank you!

And here you are, it's story time.

_To the Vicomte de Chagny-_

_I know that you remember me. I did notice you staring, though you believe I didn't see. I wish to tell you that I remember you as well, my dear friend. I would go to you now if I could. If only you would find me here. I am trapped and I do not know if I will ever be free again. I may die without having said a word to you. I hope that you are not distressed by my disappearance. I do so wish I could talk to you now! But no one knows where I am, there is no hope of my being rescued. You'd make a fine knight in shining armour, if only you knew where to find your lost princess._

Christine stopped writing then. Her pen fell from her hand and she covered her eyes. She was crying again. Putting her situation down on paper made it seem so final, as if she really would never be rescued. Never would speak to Raoul! She thought about him often, as she had much time for thinking. The note she was writing him was pointless, she knew he would never see it. But she liked to imagine that there was some way to get it to him.

She jumped as a harsh knock sounded on her door. Her tears burned her eyes as she glared at the door with hatred. Christine had not known hatred before she had been taken away, but now she experienced flashes of what she was sure could be identified as such.

The knock came again, more impatiently then before, and she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath to calm herself and then slowly opened the door.

Erik's harsh, yellow eyes met her. He held out his hand and, as always, there was nothing she could do but take it. Without speaking, he lead her to the library, sitting her down in the chair that she had come to refer to as her own.

Christine sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap, eyes on the floor. She bore his gaze without comment, though often he seemed to eye her so fiercely... It frightened her.

After a few moments, he said, "Would you like me to play for you, Christine?"

She looked up immediately. Her hatred of her kidnapper fast melted away at the idea of his beautiful musical. It was the ultimate joy for her, and the only joy she had. She nodded, her eyes shining.

He smiled at her then, only slightly. He seemed amused by her reaction, but she refused to be daunted by this. She wanted him to play!

Erik removed his violin from its worn case and Christine waited eagerly while he tuned it. She loved him this way... Attending to his instrument, being so kind to her, readying himself to play that music that carried her away and filled her soul. Had she truly been angry with him before?

Christine closed her eyes then, as Erik began to play, simply at first, but then the music became more elaborate, assaulting her senses. She sank back in her chair, removing all thought from her mind except for Erik's violin. She savoured this time. She was at peace now, somewhere far away from her underground prison. She was free...

But the music came to an end. Christine shut her eyes more tightly, trying to hold onto those last notes that still seemed to ring in the air. When she could no longer hear them at all, she opened her eyes to find that Erik had already put away the violin and was sitting in the chair opposite her, staring thoughtfully into the fire.

She stared at him, her heart pounding. His music made her forget her situation and at that moment, she wasn't thinking about it. But there was something bothering her...

It was that mask! That black silk that covered his face... Why? She wanted to know...

Perhaps it was the music that still played vaguely in her mind or the warmth of the fire, or perhaps the way Erik's gaze fell so softly, his fingertips pressed together, but he just seemed so approachable. She wanted to ask...what could the harm be in asking?

Taking a deep breath, she began, "Erik?"

He turned his head slowly toward her. "Yes, Christine?" he asked her gently.

She flushed; his tone was so kind. "May I ask you something?"

Erik seemed to consider this for a moment and at last nodded in silent acquiescence.

Christine hesitated briefly, but decided to just ask quickly and before she could change her mind about doing so. "Why do you wear a mask?"

A change came over Erik then, so quickly that Christine barely had time to react before he was out of his chair. Grabbing her wrist roughly, he leaned close to her face. "That, my dear Christine," he growled, "is not for you to know."

He then pulled on her wrist sharply and she let out a cry of pain. This seemed to only make him more angry, but he said nothing and simply dragged her back to her room, shoving her roughly inside.

Her tears of pain and hatred did not seem to move him in the slightest, as he glared at her. "I suggest you do not ask any more questions, Christine."

The door slammed shut and she was left in darkness except for the candles that still flickered on her vanity.

Letting out a cry of despair, she flung herself upon the bed and cried until she had exhausted herself enough to sleep.

Christine awoke much later, her face itched with dried tears. Her fingers clutched the bedclothes fiercely. The terror she had felt when Erik had grabbed her like that, flung her inside the room, was gone now. In its place was anger. Christine was angry. She was furious that she did not have the ability to escape.

Now she was sure, more sure than ever, that she had to escape. She was more sure than ever that staying in this place would eventually result in her death. The thought made her shudder. However beautiful Erik's music was, it was quite clear that his temper was that furious and terrifying.

She knew where the door was, the door that would lead to her freedom. It was the means of opening it that eluded her.

But then... Even if she did manage to get out of the house, surely she would be lost in the catacombs. No, she had to get out. Perhaps she could just scream and pray that the sound would carry upwards to someone who could help her.

Christine stood up and crept to the door. Easing it open, she looked around the sitting room. There was no sign of Erik. She continued to search through the other rooms of the house, though she avoided Erik's room. Her thoughts of death did not make her eager to lay eyes on that coffin.

It did seem as if Erik was not at home, which was normal for this time. Christine began to tremble as she crossed the sitting room to where the front door was concealed. Running her fingers along the wall, she could just feel the minute crack that outlined the door. Now she just had to figure out how to open it!

Her fingers explored all around the area searching for something, a switch, a catch, something that would make the door open.

At last she found something, though it didn't exactly relieve her situation. About where a doorknob would have gone on a normal door, there was a small hole. It seemed to Christine that some sort of key could be inserted to make the door open. But where could she find it? Would Erik even have an extra one? There really was no need... But even he could misplace a key and would surely need to have another on hand... Or perhaps the door opened in a different manner on the outside so the key would be in the house...

Her heart began to pound furiously now. If she did find the key...she could escape this very night!

Certain now that Erik was not in the house, she ran straight into his study and looked around wildly. Where would he keep an extra key? It was then that she spotted a hook on the wall, there were keys hanging from it! She grabbed the ring down, almost dropping the keys in her excitement. She was not daunted by the fact that there were so many. She hardly minded going through them!

But as she looked them over, her heart began to sink. Every single one of them seemed to just be a normal key, for a normal door, not one that could fit inside that strange keyhole she had found. After checking them all very carefully, she replaced them on the hook with a sigh.

Her eyes turned to his large, mahogany desk, next. However, before she actually opened any of the drawers, she hurried through the house once more, to be sure it still remained empty. The last thing she needed was to be caught going through Erik's things!

Once back in the study, she opened the top drawer and began to dig through it. There were drawings, papers she didn't try to understand, but there was no key. She searched the other drawers, becoming more and more desperate with each one. She didn't know where else to look if she couldn't find the key here!

Christine had lost hope of finding it when she reached the last drawer. She reached all the way to the back and was surprised when her finger brushed a soft material, rather than endless paper. She grabbed at it and pulled it from the drawer.. It was a small, silk pouch, gold in colour, with purple embroidery. With shaking hands she pulled at the drawstring and looked inside. There were four keys! One was very large, brass, and looked more like it would open a gate of some sort rather than any kind of door. But the other three...they were shaped so oddly. One of the them had to open the front door!

She ran with the pouch through the house and removed one of the smaller, odd shaped keys. Her attempt to shove it into the small hole failed. It wouldn't fit. But there were two still left! There was another key that was extremely similar to the one she had just tried, so she opted for the last choice.

Slowly, fearing it wouldn't fit, she eased the key into the slot. It went in easily. Christine nearly shrieked in joy. She had found the key!

Swiftly, she turned it and the door swung open. Freedom was right in front of her! All she had to do was step out the door.

Christine was about to do just that when a voice came from behind her.

"Going out, are we?"

Christine froze, the voice behind her seeming to turn her entire body to ice. She didn't dare to turn around.

A soft cry she could not suppress escaped her when deathly cold fingers wrapped themselves around her shoulder, touching the bare skin by her neck.

"Turn around, Christine," he commanded, softly, but firmly.

Now trembling all over, she slowly turned to face him. He didn't look angry and that frightened her terribly.

"You're trying to escape me," he said, stating that obvious fact.

His fingers gripped her shoulder tightly and she nodded helplessly, too afraid to even cry. Perhaps he would kill her now...

"Oh Christine..." he whispered, sadly.

Christine looked up at him in surprise, not sure what to make of his sadness.

"Haven't I given you everything?" Erik asked her gently.

She knew he meant all of the material things he had given her; the gowns, the shoes, perfume, hair combs, books and stationary...yes, Erik had given her all of that and would have bought her anything on her request. But that wasn't what she wanted! No, she didn't want any of that. She wanted to get out, to see the sky, to feel the sun, smell the air... Tears gathered in her eyes just thinking of those things that she had taken so for granted.

Erik saw her tears and slowly released her shoulder, raising his fingers to her cheek to brush them away.

"What do you want, Christine?"

He asked her so kindly that Christine began to weep in earnest. He already had control over her with his music... Would he now have control over her always? Would he force her to love him?

Christine covered her face to hide her tears, dropping them when she had recovered enough to speak. Erik waited patiently for her answer.

At last she managed to whisper, "I want to see the sky."

Erik's look hardened immediately, he was no longer kind. "I'm afraid that is quite impossible."

But Christine refused to accept that answer. No longer caring what he might do to her, she grabbed his arm and pleaded.

"Please, Erik, I beg of you... Take me outside! I'll do anything you like. It could be at night and I won't run away. I promise I won't! Please, Erik, please," she wept.

Erik seemed almost not to listen to her, instead focusing on her hands on his arm. When she had finished, he was silent for many minutes. At last, he gently pulled his arm from her grasp and said, "I'll consider it."

"Thank you," Christine replied, as sincerely as possible, hardly believing what he had just said. Then she all but ran back to her room before he could do anything else.

"You've defied me, Christine," Erik said quietly after her. "You will not be forgiven so easily."

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Greetings everyone! I'm so sorry…I haven't updated anything in a really long time. I know a few people will be disappointed that it's this story that's being updated and not one of the others, so I apologise. But this is the one that is finished and I want it to be done. Yes, this is the last chapter.

First I shall thank my glorious reviewers who are kind and awesome:

Midasgirl: Thank you for your compliments, you always make me feel great. But, I don't know if you'll even read this chapter. I'm sure if you see this you'll be furious at me about Angel of Music… I'm sorry! And…Erik and Christine are not all fluffy together here, please don't hate me!

Chantal: Yes, sinister Erik is rather attractive in his own way, ain't he? Thanks for reading!

Deirdre: Yes! Bag of life and death! Snaps for you! Thank you for your compliment…I really appreciate it. And I do think you'll enjoy this chapter…

LadyWillow: Thank you for your kind words. But no. They will not kiss. Sorry, check out another story of mine if you want them kissing, hehe

Lady Death: I am honoured to receive a review from you…seriously, you are one of the people on this website who I really respect and I love your work…so naturally I am thrilled that you are enjoying my story! Yes, The Collector is a rather dangerous book to use…Hope I'm not in TOO much trouble over it! Thank you so much for reading.

Erikorlando'sgirl: If that means you liked it…then thank you.

Olethros: Thanks, Julie, you're too nice to me. I'm glad you enjoy this though! Really….good use of the word delicious, haha

Angelic Lawyer: I'm really glad you liked reading this. I always look forward to reading your reviews, they're always well thought out and such. So…gracias? I can't say thank you in Portugese! I'm sorry, I'll try to learn, hehe.

Musicallover: Thanks for reading my story, miss. I hope you like this chapter, heheh.

PenelopeBlack13: Thank you for your kind words! I really appreciated your review.

And THERE, I have thanked everyone!! You guys rock my socks.

This author's note is getting really long, but I must continue…. This chapter…is not pleasant E/Cness. This chapter is also NOT meant to offend anyway. I felt like writing something darker and something different. I enjoy fluffy Erik a lot of the time too. But right now, I was experimenting with a serious Erik.

Remember I said this was a weird take on the story? Yes, well, it's about to get weirder. This is a darker story. They won't make up and live happily ever after. Check out my other stuff if you want something lighter. This was all written on a whim.

I hope that some of you enjoy. And to everyone who makes it to the end, thank you!!

Christine did not retire for a long time that night. She took to pacing about her room from the door to the bed, to the wardrobe, to the vanity, to the door, and so on. She felt it miraculous that she was still alive. She had been so certain, the moment she had heard Erik speak behind her, that there was no hope for her, that she would never escape his temper. But no, she was all right, had escaped untouched. She counted herself lucky.

Or perhaps not so lucky… Her situation had not improved in the least. But if he allowed her outside…. She would have to escape. She needed a plan.

For a long time Christine thought, throwing wild ideas around her head, none of which would work. She sighed and finally stopped pacing, sinking into the chair in front of her vanity.

It was hopeless, she decided. She had come up with no ingenious plan. She could simply run or she could throw herself on the mercy of any person they might happen to pass. But those could hardly be called plans. They certainly weren't ingenious and could so easily be thwarted.

Christine crossed her arms and rested them on the vanity top, letting her head fall into them. Her elbow was on something hard, however, which was very uncomfortable. She sat up to move it away, but then she noticed exactly what it was….

A large paper-knife lay on the smooth, wooden surface. Christine had been using it to mark her place in a book she had just finished. Trembling, she touched it carefully, but quickly drew her hand back.

The thought that had run through her head when she had touched the knife disgusted her to the very core of her soul. How could she even dream of using it as a weapon? Actually harm another person? No, she could never….

Christine picked up the knife. Slowly, she ran her fingertips along the edge, stopping at the point. It wasn't very sharp at all of course and, even though the thought was absolutely repulsive, she wondered how sharp it would have to be…

No! She dropped the knife abruptly and stood up, knocking the chair over. She couldn't think such thoughts. No!

But the idea was in her head now and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get rid of it. It could help her escape…She could be free…

Free….

The thought was so tempting. Christine picked up the knife again. Holding it in her hand, she became terribly afraid. Could she really do it? She did have a just cause after all…

Christine wanted to cry. This horrible underground place had utterly destroyed the person she had been. The girl who had sung in the chorus at the Opera Garnier would never have thought of such a horrible thing.

But not even the person she had become could consider actually taking someone's life. No, she couldn't. But if he were just slightly injured, if she could surprise him enough… She might get away.

Christine shut her eyes tightly. The idea was horrible, but it could be her only hope.

Very quickly, she thrust the knife into a drawer of the vanity, deciding not to think about it anymore. But when she climbed into bed, she found she could think of nothing else.

Christine woke late the next day and dressed very slowly, not eager to leave her room and face Erik. Perhaps yesterday had been some sort of trick and now she would receive the punishment she had escaped? The thought made her tremble. What would he do?

She soon knew the answer. Finally summoning enough courage to leave the room, she went to the door and reached for the knob.

It wouldn't turn. The door wouldn't open. She was locked in.

Christine's mind did not accept this for several minutes which she spent struggling with the doorknob, listening to the horrible sound it made as it jiggled and refused to turn.

Finally realising what was happening, Christine panicked. Pounding her small fists on the door, she shouted, "Erik, no!"

But there was no answer. She brought her fists on the door a few more times before she stopped. Her heat pounded painfully in her chest. She was locked in. Erik had locked her in! Oh it was bad enough to be trapped in this house, but now to be confined to this room…No!

"Erik, please," she whimpered, more to herself than to him as she stared helplessly at the door.

Suddenly she froze, her body going cold, as she heard Erik's voice behind her. "Christine."

Before she could turn around the lights went out and the room was plunged into total darkness. The gas had been shut off.

Christine screamed and began pounding the door fiercely, as if somehow that would open it. The blackness in the room was absolute and utterly terrifying. She had heard Erik's voice behind her…Could he really be in the room with her? Would the lights ever be turned back on?

Christine ceased to think rationally as fear seized her. She kicked at the door with all of her might shouting, "Anyone, please! Help me! Open the door!

Of course, no one could hear her, but Christine did not consider that. She needed the door open.

Though she could see nothing, everything seemed to be moving. The blackness stirred to her left, then behind her, as if it were Erik moving about. She expected to feel his icy fingers wrapped around her throat at any moment.

She soon exhausted herself with the door and sank to the floor sobbing. The darkness truly seemed tangible now, the way it closed in on her until the room seemed only two feet wide.

Too tired to cry any longer, she curled into a ball and fell silent, hardly daring to breathe. The light was not coming back… Erik planned to let her die in this horrifying darkness! Unless he finished her off himself… That was to be her punishment.

At least that's what Christine thought until the door opened and light from the sitting room spilled into hers. Erik stood in the doorway, his silhouette frightening to behold. He had never been inside her room. Or had he?

"Stand up, Christine," he said, quietly as she sat blinking up at him, confused by the sudden bright light.

She obeyed him, finding that her legs were reluctant to support her.

"Do not defy me again, Christine," Erik said calmly, as if he were guilty of nothing. He held out his hand and said, "Now come sing for me and we shall go out tonight."

Christine took his hand, those words and her hatred of him ringing in her ears. She thought of the knife in the drawer.

Raoul de Chagny was walking rather aimlessly that night. He was hunched over, his gloved hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat, trying to stay warm. He had quarreled with his brother, Phillipe, the Comte de Chagny, and had opted for a walk to clear his head.

His brother had grown tired of Raoul moping around the house and refusing to go out. He had been like that since the disappearance of Christine Daae from the Opera.

At first, Raoul had dedicated himself to the search to find her along with the Surete and everyone who cared about her. However, their efforts had been futile; the girl was still missing and hope of her being found was fading. She had simply vanished without a trace.

The singers and dancers of the Opera were spooked, the managers were in despair without their newest diva who had been so popular with the patrons, and Raoul…he had been determined to tell her he loved her. Perhaps the only person undisturbed by her disappearance was La Carlotta.

Raoul kicked at a small stone in his path and watched as it rolled into the street. He was tired, feeling no energy to be walking around in such cold so late at night. But the air was effectively cooling his temper and he would soon be able to return home without harsh words to his brother.

The young vicomte sighed deeply. He was utterly distraught that no word of Christine had been heard. It had been two weeks now, and nothing! But there was nothing more he could do, and he was beginning to feel that the policemen he had been following about the opera and elsewhere were becoming irritated by his presence. Raoul was one of the reasons the search still continued. His title held enough power to force the police to not give up. He wouldn't give up… He couldn't! The last time he had seen Christine he had been fourteen years old. A boy! Boys of that age don't know what to do about love. Now Raoul was sure he did and he was sure he loved Christine still! He knew when he heard her sing.

Raoul had been walking in a very quiet neighbourhood, with many large homes where everyone had already retired or were perhaps gathered around fireplaces, safely away from the cold night. As far as he could see, he was the only person out. His footsteps echoed against the buildings with every step he took.

Because it was so silent, he was disturbed when he heard the clatter of horses pulling a carriage coming from behind him. He turned around, seeing the horse's breath, but just barely making out the black shape of the carriage. It was still far away, but approaching at a constant speed. He wondered what sort of people went out riding in broughams at such an hour and on such a cold night.

Raoul had turned back around and continued walking, but listened carefully to the sounds of the brougham as it got closer and closer. When it was just a few metres behind him he stopped and looked. His heart nearly stopped at the sight he saw.

Moonlight struck her pale features, making her face glow in the cold air. Pieces of her golden hair had escaped from under a fur lined hood and danced in the breeze. She looked like an angel, so divine she appeared as she gazed joyfully and longingly up at the stars.

Raoul couldn't move as the carriage went past. He simply stared at her, with his mouth hanging open in shock. Christine was riding in that carriage.

Then she saw him too. Her eyes widened and she stared at him with a mixture of joy and a strange, deep rooted fear. It seemed to him she was about to cry out when he heard a man's voice. Christine disappeared from the window and the curtains were pulled shut. The mysterious brougham continued on its way.

The vicomte stared after it for several more seconds, then took off running for his home. When he arrived he immediately sent his footman to summon the police.

Christine's eyes itched as her tears froze on her eyelashes, but she didn't dare lift her hand to brush them away. She didn't dare move at all. Her hands clutched together tightly inside her muff, where the paper knife had also been tucked away. Christine was terrified. She had seen the sky, she had seen Raoul…now she would pay unless she did something!

Erik was silent and she didn't look at him. Just feeling him beside her was frightening. She could feel his anger… It was horrifying. She wanted more than anything to be away, to leap from the carriage… No…she'd never be fast enough. She wrapped a hand around the handle of the knife.

_It's not sharp enough_, she thought, over and over. _It's not sharp enough!_

It was a simple paper knife, it was stupid of her to ever think she could escape using it as a weapon. Her eyesight blurred as more tears gathered in her eyes. Erik had shut the curtains, she couldn't even look at the sky anymore.

The brougham stopped after an indeterminable amount of time. Christine didn't move. She remained completely still, her hand still gripping the paper knife. Erik had opened the door and stepped out, assumedly paying the driver. He returned after a moment and held out his hand to help Christine from the carriage. He was completely calm, there was no way to read any emotion he might have been feeling. However, Christine knew this was the last time she would feel fresh air and see the night sky. She wished she could say goodbye to the sun as well.

"If you say anything while the driver is within earshot," Erik said, his tone chillingly calm and blank, "you may not live to regret it."

Christine showed no fear to this statement. She knew she would die if she couldn't escape now. That threat could not scare her now. She took Erik's hand.

She stepped down from the brougham and took a deep breath of the bitter cold air. Erik didn't release her hand and they both stood in silence, watching the brougham drive away. Neither of them moved until the horse hoof beats had faded away. Christine tightened her grip on the knife.

Erik moved then, pulling her firmly towards the gate. But this time she did not follow him obediently. Using all of the strength she possessed she wrenched her arm free from his grasp. She hesitated then, shocked that she had been able to free herself, but Erik obviously had not expected it.

Before he could react she had pulled out the knife and not knowing where to aim, thrust it as hard as she could toward his stomach. She felt it cut him. Terrified by this, she dropped the knife and began to run. For a few moments, Erik did not chase her, but then she heard his pounding footsteps behind her, matching the furious beating of her heart. He would catch her. She couldn't run faster than him. So she started to scream. She screamed as loud as she possibly could, a loud, shrill sound that filled the streets and echoed off of the buildings. She didn't stop screaming as she ran. He would catch her, any second he would catch her and drag her back underground unless someone heard her now.

And he did catch her. His arms encircled her torso, trapping her arms, and pulled her into his murderous embrace. That was when she realised that she shouldn't have dropped the knife.

Christine kicked and struggled against him as much as she could as he began to pull her back to the gate. She continued to scream and he made no attempt to silence her. Why didn't anyone hear her? Why wouldn't anyone save her? Surely someone could hear! But she was tired, from running, from struggling, her voice grew hoarse and she couldn't scream.

It was over. She fell limp in his arms then, quiet and trembling. He lifted her up then, carrying her towards the gate. She was exhausted and passive. This was her fate. She had tried… It was over.

The brougham that Raoul had seen that night was never found. The police resumed their investigation in earnest now that they had proof that Christine was still alive and in Paris. The street that Raoul had been on was searched and the occupants questioned.

It was Raoul who returned to the opera. Outside of a tall gate on the Rue Scribe side, he walked, looking around for anything, making a circle around the entire building.

It was there that he found the knife, streaked with dried blood. It was brought immediately to the police who searched the area for any more signs of a scuffle or any proof that it involved Christine.

Nothing was found. Weeks passed and more and more lost interest in the case. The opera company had moved on and few still mourned the loss of Christine Daae.

Raoul was devastated as the case was officially declared closed. He did not return to the opera. He chose instead to leave Paris and move back to the Changy estate in the countryside. Phillipe could not convince him otherwise.

He never forgot her.

Christine was locked securely in her room after that night and was never allowed out. There was no more music, only silence.

Days passed, though she hardly noticed. She felt as if the silence would drive her mad and she began to long for Erik's music so fiercely she didn't know what to do.

He came into her room with food for her, but she rarely touched any of it. She'd rather die than accept it from him now…

Everything had changed so drastically. She tried to think straight, but as time went on it became increasingly difficult. Her thoughts mixed together and she couldn't seem to remember what life was like before Erik, what she had done, who she had known. Even her memories of her father were beginning to fade as she remained, locked away underground, never to be seen again.

She felt herself growing weaker, she knew she was ill. Christine mused that if she could just hear Erik's music again, everything would be better. She would forgive him for all of this, maybe she could love him again. Maybe she would sing…

Sing…she had forgotten how to sing. Yes, she would need Erik to teach her.

Christine imagined all this, Erik coming to her with his violin and a smile, telling her to stand up and sing for him once more. She would, gladly. In her fantasy she loved him and everything was all right.

However, in reality, moments of which she experienced less and less of, she knew that she would die hating Erik for the horrible being he was.

One day, for some reason, she woke up feeling especially clear headed. She realised exactly what was happening to her and that Erik was doing it to her.

Christine realised she was losing her mind. That she would die insane…at Erik's hands.

No! She would not let Erik kill her this way. She would…she would….kill herself.

Her breathing increased as she thought about that. It was a sin that could not be forgiven, but…wouldn't death now be better than wasting away in the silent darkness? Who could tell how much longer she could live?

She would take her own life. Yes, that would show Erik that she was not as weak as he thought. That he could not hold onto his pretty prisoner as long as he hoped! No, she would die. She would die now.

How? There was nothing in her room… But…the walls… They were made of stone. Surely, surely one could not survive beating their head against a stone wall! No, she would die. She would be free. God would forgive her. He would set her free…

Christine raised herself slowly out of her bed, staring at the wall. She smiled, imagining that dying would be a most excellent adventure. Angels would come for her and lift her out of this dreadful place to the most spectacular world she would ever know.

She began to pray silently as she walked towards the wall. She prayed for God's forgiveness, she prayed for happiness. She prayed for freedom.

Kneeling down in front of the wall, Christine took a deep breath and raised her fingertips to touch the cold, hard stones.

She prayed for freedom.

Erik found her hours later, bleeding and unconscious, but alive. He lifted her to her bed and gently cleaned and bandaged the wounds she had caused.

When she woke up, he was beside her. She would have screamed if she had the energy, but all she could do was stare at him blankly. A feeling of dread crept up her spine. This wasn't heaven.

No…God had to forgive her! He wouldn't punish her with this for eternity! No! He wouldn't!

Unless…she hadn't died…

"Am I dead?" she managed to say, her throat dry and aching.

"No," Erik answered her simply.

Christine didn't know whether or not to be relieved. She suddenly became aware of the horrid pounding in her head.

She felt more ill than she ever had in her life. She felt that if she were not dead now, surely she would be soon… Very soon…

"Erik…" she croaked, each word painful. "Let me go."

Erik said nothing, but stood and left the room, leaving the door ajar.

Christine stayed where she was, she could not move her body. Her head hurt, she was ill… She would die soon.

Then, she heard it. Very softly at first, but slowly growing in volume. Erik was playing the organ.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she listened to his music. It was gentle and comforting and was the most joyful noise she had ever heard. It was peaceful, lulling, bursting with absolute harmony and joy.

As the magnificent sound continued Christine forgave Erik. She forgave him for everything he had done. She did not hate him, no, not now… How could she hate him when he created such music just for her?

She forgave him and felt numb and peaceful in doing so. The music continued and she began to feel warm and happier than she could ever remember.

Her lips curled upward and she sighed, wrapped in a blanket of notes and sound.

Christine Daae died with a smile on her lips at the exact moment the music ceased.

FIN

A/N: That's the end of this story. Again, this was an exploration of a darker story for my own entertainment. Don't get offended. It's meant to be different and interesting for everybody.

Anyway, I'm sure many of you noticed that this story lacked an important element…and unmasking scene. Originally I had one planned for this chapter, but in order for the story to continue the way I wanted it to, there was just no room. I could not make it fit in. I'm sorry if that's a disappointment to anyone…

Also, since this is the last chapter, if anyone wishes to ask me a question about this or give a comment (positive or negative) that they want a response to PLEASE feel free to email me at I'm a nice person, really, don't be afraid. Yell at me for writing something so horrible, ask about why something happened or why something didn't…whatever you want.

And LASTLY, please, please Review if you've made it this far. I'd appreciate it so very much! So…yes! Review! Thanks!

Thanks so much for putting up with this story you guys. Hope your December is going well! Happy Holidays to everybody!


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